


Je Te Regrette

by thnksfrthwilliam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthwilliam/pseuds/thnksfrthwilliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brothers Winchester are on a case and Sam is more than a little convinced that he knows who's causing the trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Je Te Regrette

“Hey Sammy, this sounds like it could be our kind of gig,” Dean said, holding the newspaper out for Sam to grab.

He plucked the paper out of his older brother’s fingers, straightening it to read. Skimming the article, Sam wasn’t sure it was actually something that was in their territory.

“Dean, this doesn’t sound like something for us. It’s just a few dead guys in a mid-size town.”

“But they were _all_ museum guards, Sammy, all three of them. Within a week of each other. If that’s not suspicious then I don’t know what is.”

Sam had to nod in agreement, the whole thing seemed to scream “weird shit is going on here” which was kinda they’re thing. And the town wasn’t so far away from where they were that it would be a problem.

“Fine, Dean. We can go check it out.”

Dean grinned, rolling off the bed to throw his belongings into his bag. Sam sighed and picked up his discarded jeans off the stained and frayed faux-oriental carpet. He grimaced as he shook them out to fold properly. No matter how many times they stayed in a shitty motel where the water was never hot and where sometimes, they could hear scuttling when the lights were turned off, Sam never truly got used to it. He heard the door slam as Dean ran out to throw their weapons in the back of the Impala. Sam finished packing his own bag and swung it over his shoulder, doing a final sweep of the room to check for things they might have left behind.

“C’mon Samantha, we don’t want to be late like your period,” Dean called, poling his head back through the door.

Sam rolled his eyes and restrained himself from telling Dean that that didn’t even make sense before hoisting his bag a little higher and following his brother to the car.

They found another motel, a forest green carbon copy of the last one they had stayed in. Throwing their bags on the beds they rifled through them, Sam grabbing a pair of FBI badges and Dean checking his hand gun, tossing Ruby’s knife onto the Sam’s bed. Sam slid the gleaming blade into the hidden pocket sewn into the waist band of his pants after he got his suit on. First stop, victim number one’s house.

“Your husband was a museum guard, correct?” Sam asked Mrs. Edwards.

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And how did he die?” Dean interjected.

She hesitated.

“Heart attack on the job.”

They finished the interview and headed to the museum.

“It didn’t sound like she was exactly convinced of the cause of the husband’s death,” Sam commented.

Dean shot a sideways glance at him and nodded, looking back at the road. When they pulled up to the old building, it was set up like a crime scene, yellow tape caution tape covering the front door.

“Looks like a bit too much for just a heart attack,” Sam muttered, already slinking towards the back of the museum, seeking another entrance.

Dean found the back door first, unlocking it with practiced ease. After over an hour of creeping around in dark corridors and musty exhibits they had discovered absolutely nothing. They gave up, going back to their motel room for the night.

“Well that was a perfect waste of time,” Dean grumbled as he flopped onto his bed.

“You were the one who wanted to come here,” Sam commented.

“Shut up bitch, I still think there’s something strange going on.”

“I’ll do some research then, jerk,” Sam replied, picking his laptop out of his bag.

After a solid hour of research Sam finally came across something he thought might be relevant. An article buried in the recesses of a local newspaper like the town wanted to forget about it talked about some museum guards getting accused of a slew of crimes but never actually being convicted of them. Dean skimmed the article from over Sam’s shoulder and agreed that it could definitely be relevant to what was going on, but they wouldn’t know until they had more pieces of the puzzle.

At the morgue the next morning the brothers Winchester inspected the bodies of their three victims. None of the injuries were congruent on all three bodies, or even similar at all. There were gaping lacerations in Mr. Edwards’ stomach like something had wanted to spread his entrails on the floor and roll in them. Mr. Jones was covered in a smattering of stab wounds, seemingly not from a knife but from a spear with a stone tip. And lastly, Mr. Bray’s neck was broken and his skull was bashed in. No similarities and no obvious connection between the deaths.

“Well, Mr. Edwards sure had one hell of a heart attack,” Dean muttered as they walked back to the Impala.

“Yeah, it almost looks like he was mauled by a large animal, maybe a bear… actually, it looked more like lion scratches.”

“You think so?”

“But the other injuries don’t match a lion attack at all. One had what looked like wounds from being stabbed by a spear and the other looked like he had gotten into a fight with a caveman and lost.”

“…Sammy. Weren’t there exhibits like that at the museum? A lion, Native Americans with spears, cavemen with clubs?”

“Shit.”

They booked it back to museum, slipping in the back door again and making a beeline for the lion exhibit. The mounted cats were posed to look like they were in the middle of hunting a gazelle. Dean reached over and poked the lion’s nose, chuckling. Sam rolled his eyes and scoured the exhibit for some sort of evidence of supernatural presence.

“Hey Sam, take a look at this,” Dean called from the back of the lion display.

Sam looked up and nearly had a heart attack. Dean was holding a handful of colorful, sparkling candy wrappers.

“A trickster,” Sam choked out.

“A trickster,” Dean agreed.

Sam didn’t sleep that night, he was far too busy praying to Gabriel.

The next morning they searched the town for more signs of a trickster, but they didn’t have much luck. And throughout the search Sam never ceased in trying to convince Dean that this was obviously Gabriel.

“Sam, no matter how much you apparently had a big gay crush on the guy, he’s dead. Lucifer killed him. He’s not coming back. There are plenty of other tricksters that this could be.”

Sam didn’t bother denying the crush; it wasn’t important to Gabriel being alive and he might actually have some unresolved, slightly inappropriate feelings for the archangel.

“I _know_ it’s him, Dean. I can feel it.”

Dean simply nodded and opened the door to the candy shop that they were going to check out. Sam dropped the subject, but he sent another prayer up to Gabriel, asking him to just reveal himself already.

That night, after Sam called Bobby looking for a trickster summoning spell and came up empty handed, he came back to the motel room to a book he’d never seen before sitting on his bed. Sam’s breath caught when he saw it and he picked it up, knocking a loose piece of paper off the top.

 _Can’t reveal myself until you catch me, kiddo. –G_

Sam could have cried, though he eventually chose to take the less emotional route and just sit on his bed, staring at the note. When Dean got back Sam nearly threw the book at him with the spell page dog eared. Dean didn’t bother asking where Sam had found a book that look like it belonged in a prized collection that had been passed down for thousands of years, he just took the tome and wrote out a list of things they would need and went right to the trunk of the Impala and a few local stores to gather them.

With Dean out, Sam took a shower and tended to some pressing issues. And when he came with Gabriel’s name tumbling past his lips in a broken whimper, he could have sworn he heard someone sigh out “Sam” in just the same way.

“So, where are we gonna call this bitch or bastard?” Dean asked when he returned with the required materials.

Sam bit his tongue and didn’t insist that it wasn’t any bitch or bastard of a trickster, it was Gabriel.

“Is right here a bad choice? Honestly, with this spell, there’s not much a trickster can do to hurt us.”

Dean shrugged and began setting up the summoning spell. When everything was set out, Sam read the incantation and performed the final step. There was a loud crack and the snarky little archangel that had been missing was standing in front of them. The smirk Gabriel was sporting was lazy and smug as he raised an eyebrow at Dean’s dropped jaw. Then he turned his attention to Sam who was gaping as well, but looking at the taller man, his eyes shined with a smile.

“Hey, kiddo. You got me,” Gabriel said with a wink.

Without a second thought Sam was wrapped around the shorter man, holding him as tightly as he could. He let the grin that was threatening to break his face get a little wider when he felt Gabriel reciprocate the hug, wrapping his arms around Sam’s midsection. Dean coughed awkwardly but walked out of the room to (presumably) the nearest bar to give them some privacy.

“Gabriel, oh God, you were dead. You left us porn to tell us how to defeat Lucifer. You were… dead,” Sam finished lamely, voice wavering with unshed tears.

“It’s okay, Sammy, don’t worry your pretty head about me. The important thing is that I’m here now, gorgeous.”

Sam took a deep breath of Gabriel’s scent, committing it to memory. Then he pulled away to look at the archangel. He let one of his hands slide up to Gabriel’s cheek, stroking a thumb over the cheek bone, his hand nearly as large as the angel’s face. He marveled at the shorter man, still not knowing for sure if he should believe that this being was still alive and standing in _his motel room._ Gabriel leaned into the touch, practically purring.

“Hey Sasquatch,” Gabriel murmured, “Why don’t you get down to my height so I can tell you something.”

Sam immediately complied, not troubling himself with the implications of his lack of hesitation. When he was eye level with Gabriel, the golden eyed bastard captured his lips, burying his fingers in Sam’s hair. The taller man gasped, but surprisingly enough, Gabriel didn’t take that as an opportunity to fuck Sam’s open mouth with his tongue. The archangel continued the kiss, never pushing for more than he was getting. Sam moaned into his mouth and pulled away slightly to gaze at Gabriel, dazed.

“Why?” Sam asked simply.

“Because you’re adorable. And you cared enough to _miss_ me,” Gabriel answered with a secretive smile, like he wasn’t telling Sam everything.

And Sam felt a warm buzz unfurl in his chest, incredibly pleased with what Gabriel had just said. He leaned back in for another kiss and silently hoped that what Gabriel had left unsaid was _And I could be falling in love with you._ Because that was how he felt about the archangel. Sam made a small noise as Gabriel’s tongue brushed across his lips and he opened his mouth slightly. This time Gabriel wasted no time in properly ravishing the mouth on his.


End file.
